Rebound
by pr0nz69
Summary: When Oz's love confession to Sharon is rejected, he declares that there will never be another girl capable of capturing his heart. He never could have imagined that the person he needed most was the one man who was always right beside him.
1. Rejection

A/N: I intend for this story to be a three-shot. Special thanks to my younger sister who spent a lot of time writing this with me!

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Oz knew he had been rejected the moment Sharon handed back the flowers.

They were entirely alone in the dining hall, the servants having long since retired to their quarters, the company having vacated the space even earlier. Oz stood with his hands clasped in front of him, fingers twisted amongst each other. When she held out the bouquet of freshly-cut, passion-red roses, he was forced to pull his hands apart and take them all back into his sweaty palms.

"Oz-sama," she said in that sweet voice that had always tugged at his heart, "I am so… so _grateful_ that you feel this way about me. Truly, I – I am very flattered! But I am afraid that I cannot return your feelings. I respect you very much, Oz-sama, so please understand. I do not wish for your heart to suffer on my behalf any more. So I cannot accept these."

Oz found that he could not speak, but it seemed that there was nothing more to be said. Sharon quickly and cordially excused herself, curtseying as she quitted the room. Oz was left alone with the sorry bouquet, which he then dropped disgustedly into the nearby waste receptacle. He had been rejected. The word stung his heart.

Not wanting to be caught here in the main dining hall where he might conceivably be questioned by anyone who happened to see him, and, furthermore, not wanting to be seen with tears striping his cheeks, Oz dashed from the room and tore down the corridor, slipping into the first bathroom he could find. Once he was submerged in the hot bath, he was unable to distinguish the water dribbling down his face from his own tears, a fact that comforted him a little; he did _not_ want to admit, even to himself, that he was crying over a girl, of all things. He found that he could not sit still for long, however, and soon after, he was toweling himself dry, hurriedly dressing in a set of nightclothes that had been left out for guests.

Oz needed somewhere to think, somewhere he could be alone with his thoughts and try and sort through the mess he had gotten himself into. It didn't take him long to discover a sitting room tucked into a shadowy corner on the second floor of the Rainsworth Manor. Peeking inside to make sure that it was empty, he saw that it was a fairly small but cozy room whose fire must have been lit by one of the servants earlier that night, for the flames in the grate now seemed to be steadily dying out. He entered and, after stoking the fire to get it burning more brightly, he settled down on the rug in front of it, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them.

He didn't know for how long he sat there, and he was still staring aimlessly into the flames when Gil suddenly entered. He didn't notice him at first, and it wasn't until Gil was standing directly beside him on the hearth that Oz sensed a shadow fall over him. Startled, he whirled around.

"Gil! You scared me!" He clenched his fists at his sides, not entirely in the mood to be interrupted in his brooding by his ever-oblivious servant.

"Sorry," Gil said in his usual bashful way. He didn't say anything else after that, apparently at a loss for words, but Oz was certain he caught Gil's eyes falling to the white boxer shorts, cut just above the knee, that he had pulled on for sleepwear, lingering very slightly over the bare legs his nightshirt didn't cover. He pretended not to notice, and Gil continued to stand beside him as if unsure of whether or not he should leave. After a few moments, however, his awkward hovering presence had become immensely distracting, and so Oz relented to let him stay.

"You can sit down, Gil," he said pointedly, scooting slightly to the left so that Gil could get a share of the fire. Without a word, Gil sat, cross-legged, in the vacated spot, his pink-tinged face turned somewhat away from Oz.

For awhile, both were silent. Gil must have sensed that something was wrong with his master and seemed unwilling to speak before Oz did, and yet Oz wasn't exactly in a chatty mood himself. After a moment, however, to break the tension that had fallen over them, Oz said irrelevantly, "Where's Alice?"

Gil jumped a little, apparently startled by the abruptness of the question, and Oz felt his shoulder brush against his on accident; it was not altogether an unpleasant sensation. "She already went off to bed," Gil answered, his voice somewhat shaky, and Oz merely nodded. That proved to be enough encouragement for Gil to add, "Hey, Oz… Are you feeling all right tonight? I mean…" He fidgeted. "Whenever you get like this, I know you're –"

"I'm fine, Gil!" Oz interrupted, his voice torn between false cheerfulness and spiteful annoyance.

"Oz…" Gil said hesitantly. "You don't need to lie to me. I've been with you long enough to know when you're upset… I mean, I spent ten years trying to bring you back, but you're exactly the same as you were then."

At this last comment, Oz felt something inside of him break. "Why did you do that, Gil?" he asked. He could already feel tears brimming beneath his eyes, feel Gil acknowledge them with a start. He didn't care. What would playing strong do for him now that he was rejected?

"Oz –" Gil started, but he was interrupted again.

"Why did you try to get me back for _ten_ years? Why didn't you just let it _go_?" Oz was shouting now, and somehow, he found himself on his feet, glaring down at a bewildered Gil. "What if I _never_ came back? You'd waste your whole life for someone who isn't even that important! You should have moved on!" Oz turned his back to Gil and finished in a low voice, "Unless you also only needed me back for your own convenience."

A clock was ticking from somewhere. Oz couldn't remember hearing it before. Now he heard it loud and clear. Its sound was deafening.

"Wh-what are you _talking_ about?"

Oz didn't turn around. A moment later, Gil made him.

"Why are you saying things like that? Answer me!"

Gil's hands were on his shoulders, applying a pressure there that was at once comforting and restraining. Oz grimaced. That Gil dared to touch him now, while he was like this, both soothed and enraged him.

"Don't touch me!" he spat, slapping away his servant's hands and drawing back. His skin felt tight and hot around the contours of his face, and he wanted to flee, to leave Gil and find a cool, dark place to himself where he could hide away from everything. "Just leave me alone."

"Oz," Gil said, and for a moment, his voice sounded wounded, pitiful. Then he took a step forward, anger flashing in his eyes, and repeated, "_Someone who isn't even that important_? Oz – you are the _only_ person who was on my mind for ten whole years! No – even before that. From my very first memory – from the day we met – you were all I could think about! I've lived my life entirely devoted to you – and I did it willingly!"

"Oh?" sneered Oz, haughtily. "Well, I'm glad that _you're_ so _devoted_ because Sharon-chan never cared about me at all!"

He hadn't meant to say it. He hadn't meant to drag Sharon into the conversation. In fact, he had wanted her to be the farthest thing from it. Now Gil knew. The situation couldn't have turned more wrong had Sharon walked in on them as he said it.

His face became very red as Gil stared at him, and he deflated a little. He couldn't think of anything to say that might alter the meaning of what he had said, nor could he find any words to negate it. Oz found himself backed against the wall, and he resignedly slumped down against it, bringing his knees up to his chest and tucking his chin into them.

"Oz…" said Gil after several moments had passed in silence, and Oz turned his face deeper into his knees. "What do you mean Sharon never cared? Oz… Are you in love with Sharon?"

The words stung, especially now that Oz knew nothing would come of his love for her. He couldn't deny them, so instead he intoned angrily from between his knees, "Shut up, Gil!" and went quiet.

After a few moments, he heard Gil sit back down onto the floor. Minutes, it seemed, ticked by in relative silence. Oz glared at the rug as if it were the reason for his awful mood.

"You know, I wouldn't take it to heart if Sharon rejected you," Gil said at last, breaking the silence. "After all, she is much older than she looks. She – I don't know – she probably thinks of you as a younger brother or something."

Whipping his head up from his knees, Oz snarled, "Yeah, and I'm also supposed to be ten years older than I look, remember?"

"Ah – th-that's right." Gil seemed embarrassed by his mistake. "But still," he pressed, recovering, "you didn't actually _experience_ those ten years, since to you that time passed by in mere hours. Sharon, on the other hand, did experience all that time; her mind aged while her body remained the same. She's just in a different stage of life than you are right now. I wouldn't worry about it too much." When Oz continued his glaring competition with the rug, Gil added, "Besides, it's not like she's the only girl out there. There are plenty of other… people."

Oz glowered at his servant's ignorance but bit back the smart remark that was on the tip of his tongue. Gil didn't understand. He didn't want just _any_ girl; he had already found the girl that he loved. Telling him that there were others out there was about as helpful as telling him that he could replace Ada with any stranger off the street. Sure, there were other girls out there, but none of them were quite like Sharon.

"Do you really love her?" Once again, Gil's voice shook him out of his reverie. Oz ignored him, mentally kicking himself for allowing Gil to stay with him in the first place.

"I mean, I wasn't under the impression that the two of you were well acquainted," Gil added, as if to justify his blunt remark. "How can you love a person that you don't know very well?"

"It's called love at first sight, Gil! Haven't you ever heard of it?" Oz snapped.

Gil was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, "I can't say that I believe in that exactly." Oz glared up at him, looking scandalized, and he hastily added, "I just mean that love, _true_ love, takes longer to develop than anything 'first sight' can offer. Love that is quick to form is also quick to fade."

Oz raised his eyebrows. "And how is it that _you_ are so knowledgeable in affairs of the heart?" Part of him was only teasing as usual (because nothing thrilled him more than provoking a flustered Gil), but the other, more love-spurned part of him felt genuine curiosity. The change in subject also presented him with an opportunity to shift the focus of the conversation away from himself and push it onto Gil.

As expected, his servant's face turned an unhealthy red in a matter of seconds, and he began spluttering and coughing all at once, but Oz would not back down. "Tell me, Gil," he said softly, leaning forward in anticipation. "What is _love_ to you?"

Gil kept his eyes to the ground, remaining tight-lipped. Oz scooted closer and rested his hand on Gil's knee. At once he saw a surge of panic flicker through the latter's eyes. The sight excited him. How he had missed teasing Gil the way he had when they were both kids!

"_Ne_, Gil?" he prompted.

Gil swallowed thickly and licked his lips. "L-love…" He paused to clear his throat. Still flushed, he endeavored to speak again, head bowed and eyes tracing over everything, everything except Oz. "Love… makes you feel elated and lightheaded and nervous all at once. Love makes you think about that person nonstop – no matter what you do, they're – they're always in your thoughts. Love makes you want to do anything in your power to make that person happy. Love makes you desire what is best for that person, even if it denies you your own selfish desires. Love makes you…"

Here Gil swallowed nervously and raised his head. For the second time that night, his eyes were on the pale, slender legs exposed from Oz's nightshirt, his expression a mixture of repulsion and something akin to… was it _lust_? Discomfited, Oz resisted the urge to readjust his nightshirt and forced himself to keep his eyes on Gil's. With what appeared to be an enormous effort, Gil dragged his own gaze back up to Oz's face. "…m-makes you want to embrace that person and to feel the warmth of their skin against yours..." His voice cracked.

Oz now attempted, discreetly, to stretch his legs out flat, but he found that his shirt had bunched up around his lap, exposing a decent portion of his boxers. He hurriedly tugged the shirt down and sneaked a glance at Gil. Face bright red, his eyes remained glued to the spot where Oz's thighs had been. He shifted uncomfortably, hands trembling. Warm sweat formed on Oz's temples as Gil slowly slid closer, tearing his gaze away from his lower body to look him in the eye.

"Love..." Gil's clothed leg brushed against his bare one. Oz inhaled sharply.

"Makes you…" He was right beside him, leaning in closer, whispering.

"Want to…" His breath was hot on his face, and Oz's heart beat so fast it would surely explode –

And then Gil's lips were on his.

Time froze. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't feel anything except for the soft lips pressing against his. He was captivated, enraptured by the feel of Gil's lips, the rapid beat of his heart, the trembling hands that rested on his shoulders. He had never done this before, never thought he would be doing it now and with his servant of all people. His head felt light, swamped in a cloudy mass of inextricable and unidentifiable emotions. And then his head started to clear. And then he realized that Gil was _kissing_ him.

He put his hands on Gil's chest and pushed but to no effect. Gil was much stronger, and he refused to budge. Panicking, Oz tried to turn his head away so that he could _command_ Gil to let him go, and after a bit of twisting and turning, he managed to free his lips. Gasping for breath, he exclaimed,

"Gil! What are you doing?"

Gil's gold eyes were wild, like a beast's. Without sparing a moment to respond, he grabbed Oz's face and kissed him again, this time keeping a hold on his jawbone. Oz was suddenly hot, despite the fact that they had moved away from the fire, and a sensation of dizziness had claimed his vision, causing him to see everything in blurry doubles.

_Why is this happening?_ He pressed his hands against Gil's shoulders, squeezing his eyes shut tight as his head was forced against the wall. _I expected this to happen – _wanted_ it to happen – but with _Sharon-chan_! Not with _Gil_!_ He brought his foot up to Gil's abdomen and kicked, breaking the kiss as Gil doubled over.

"Gilbert! What was _that_?" he shouted, slapping his arm protectively across his mouth. "Why are you doing this? This is _wrong_!"

Grasping his stomach, Gil straightened up, his eyes wet and serious. "Th-there is nothing wrong with my feelings for you," he said softly, slowly getting to his feet. "I… I _want_ you, Oz!"

Before Oz could protest further, he found himself being grabbed around the waist and hoisted over Gil's shoulder. His shirt rode up under him, leaving much of his stomach uncovered against Gil's sturdy clavicle and the entirety of his scantily-clad bottom pressed to his face and neck. To his further humiliation, Gil opted to put his hand on his exposed backside, keeping his palm firmly over it to hold him steady and allowing his long fingers to drape over the bare skin of his inner thigh. Red-faced and dizzy, Oz angrily started to pound Gil's back with his fists, demanding to be released.

"Let me go, Gil!" he growled, trying to kick as well but being restrained at once by Gil's free arm, which went to pin his legs securely to his chest. He then tightened his hold on Oz's rear, causing the latter to grow shamefully hot in the face as well as in the lower extremity. He suddenly went quiet, realizing that he was causing quite the ruckus and blanching at the thought of someone overhearing him and coming to see what was the matter.

Gil took him to one of the many unused bedrooms at the Rainsworth Manor and tossed him rather unceremoniously onto the canopied double bed. As Oz struggled to reorient himself on the duvet in order to pull his shirt back down over him, he heard the sliding of a bolt and realized that Gil had locked them in.

The room was dark, the heavy umber drapes pulled tight across the windows, and the only source of light was in four chandeliers with shuddering flames, one in each corner. It was scarcely furnished, containing only the bed, a night stand, and an old wardrobe which Gil was presently rifling through. He emerged a moment later holding a woman's white dressing gown, and before Oz had the time to marvel over the absurdity of the garment, Gil had pulled from its loops the tie used to fasten it before dropping it carelessly to the floor. The next thing Oz knew, Gil was on top of him, straddling his hips as he kissed him all over and roughly stroked his face.

Through the bursts of air he was able to claim in the brief intermissions of Gil's kisses, Oz managed to gasp out, "Gil… Let me go… Why… are you doing this…"

Putting his lips just beside Oz's ear and causing a shiver to break out over him, he whispered, "I want you to enjoy this, Oz… as much as possible…"

Then, before Oz could react, Gil grabbed his wrists and yanked them above his head. Oz cried out in pain, then shuddered as he felt the cool silk of the dressing gown's tie weave in and out around his wrists before it was pulled taut, knotted, and then stretched to the bars in the headboard where Gil promptly and securely bound it. Hopelessly, Oz tugged at his bonds but to no avail.

Hardening his eyes to try and mask his fear, Oz leveled Gil with a venomous look and demanded, "Gil! Let me go this instant! What do you mean by tying me up like this?"

"I already told you," Gil murmured, lowering himself, surprisingly gently, on top of a quivering Oz's chest. "I want you to enjoy this." He ran his fingers through Oz's hair, causing him to shiver again, and trailed them down his face where they stopped to cup his jaw. He put his mouth to Oz's ear and kissed it before nibbling slightly on the cartilage. Oz cringed, then shuddered when Gil's tongue slid down his neck to his clavicle. Soft lips pressed against the protruding bone, tenderly caressing it with his tongue for a moment before gliding down lower and lower until –!

Oz gasped as the mouth covered his nipple and began sucking roughly. He recoiled as cool fingers slipped underneath his nightshirt and ghosted up his hips to his waist, then back down over his chest, his stomach. And Oz couldn't think to stop him, so distracting was that tongue, those nimble fingers. He couldn't object as those same keen fingers dared to glide under the waistband of his boxers and tease the sensitive pelvic bone just below the surface – couldn't choke back the pleasured moan from tearing out of his throat as the hand grasped him firmly and began, with unhurried, tantalizing jerks, to pump him, sending jolts of pleasure careening through his body. Head spinning, he squeezed his eyes shut and trembled from head to toe as he struggled to regain control of his mind – no, of his body – so that this madness would end. Yet at the same time, some small, aberrant part of him didn't want it to stop, for this was his first time experiencing anything of the sort, and as wrong as he knew it was for him to be doing this with _Gil_ of all people, he was almost too aroused to care.

Caught up in the moment, Oz yelped when he felt cold air rush across his lower body. Opening his eyes, he realized that while he was distracted, Gil had succeeded in removing his boxers. At the sight of his swollen, erect member, Oz turned his face away in shame, breathing erratically. By this point, he had ceased to struggle for an escape; his wrists, sore from chafing against the restraints, relaxed and hung loosely above his head. He allowed his unfocused eyes to float up to the satin canopy, completely overwhelmed by the throbbing between his legs and the humiliation he felt in his lack of control over his own body. He lay there, tied up and hopelessly aroused, entirely at Gil's mercy as the silence wore on and neither of them moved.

Closing his eyes in a futile attempt to will his arousal away, he was caught completely off guard when something warm and wet slipped into his belly button, tickling him and making his stomach clench. Before he had time to comprehend what had happened, the warmth vanished, only to be replaced moments later at the tip of his erection. Eyes springing wide open in a flash, he propped himself up on his elbows to find Gil's head bowed, his mouth wrapped around his member. This time he could not prevent himself from emitting a sharp cry of pleasure. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Gil's tongue softly caressed the head while his hand grasped the base, his thumb rubbing circles on the underside of the shaft. It was so much stimulation at once that Oz thought he might explode; lightheaded and sweaty, his heart thundered against his ribcage as his body tensed and squirmed against the bed, his head thrashing from side to side. Quiet whimpers escaped his lips as he trembled like a leaf. Although he was consumed by guilt and shame to admit it, he needed_ something_ to release this unbearable tension in his body, and if Gil would do _that_ with his tongue just one more time he would certainly –

Suddenly, the warmth around his erection was gone, leaving him feeling hollow, unsatisfied. He kept his eyes closed as his chest heaved, torn between feeling disappointed that he had been _so close_ to going over the edge and mortified that he had actually wanted to. The bed creaked as Gil leaned forward and caressed his cheek with his thumb.

"Hah… Gil… Why'd you st–"

"Oz," Gil interrupted, voice hoarse and unsteady, "look at me."

As Oz's eyes grew accustomed to the semi-darkness, he saw Gil's face hovering right above his, eyes reflecting a mixture of apprehension and desire. Gil appeared, Oz noted, just as worked up as he was – face flushed and slick with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, trembling lips bruised and wet. And yet somehow, he still struggled to speak.

"What is it, Gil?" demanded Oz, growing impatient as his arousal throbbed.

"I – you – do you –" His face flushed deeper, and he averted his eyes. "Do y-you want to go _all the way_?"

Nervously, he shifted his eyes back onto Oz's, and suddenly Oz was stuck by the desire to laugh. Only Gil would ask such a question at a time like this, when they were already too far in to turn back. Figuring that his servant would not appreciate being laughed at, he contained his amusement with a smirk.

"Why would we only go _halfway_?" he retorted as innocently as he could. All thoughts of Sharon, of retaining his pride, everything fled from him in that moment, for he could only see the discomfited man before him and his own bright, ravenous passion. Gil, meanwhile, gawked at him as if hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. Oz could barely hold back a lightheaded smile.

"Screw me, Gil," he murmured, and he thrust his head up, lips catching Gil's in a quick, chaste kiss.

That was all it took to break through Gil's inhibitions. Oz looked on as Gil fumbled with the buttons on his pants, feeling a sudden urge to undo them himself so that he might _accidentally_ brush his hands against his lower regions and revel in the hitch in breath that would undoubtedly follow. When Gil finished undressing, Oz gaped, faintly apprehensive. Gil was_ a lot _bigger than him. Would… would it all _fit_? Before he had much time to consider the matter, Gil's fingers were pressing gently at his lips. Oz raised his eyebrows.

"For – you know," Gil hurried to explain. "I-I couldn't find any lubricant, so I thought – saliva –"

Before he managed to complete his sentence, Oz permitted the fingers to enter his mouth and sucked hard. Gil's surprised moan shot straight to his groin, encouraging him to suck harder, wrapping his tongue leisurely around each finger. When he felt that the fingers were sufficiently coated in saliva, he pulled away, waiting for Gil to regain control of himself. Mere seconds later his entire body tensed when something wet brushed up against his entrance. Noticing this, Gil caressed his cheek with his free hand, murmuring,

"Just relax. It'll be worse if you're tense."

Exhaling shakily, Oz did his best to remain cool and collected as the finger slid in, but the intrusion felt so uncomfortable and unfamiliar that his attempt at relaxing was rather unsuccessful. A second finger was added, causing Oz to cringe and squeeze his eyes shut in pain. Gil brushed away Oz's damp bangs and ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. A stinging pain suddenly shot up his backside as the fingers began making scissoring movements.

"Ouch, Gil! What are you doing?" he demanded, trying to prevent the pain and fear from slipping into his tone.

"Making it so that it won't hurt as much later," Gil panted, sweat dripping off his forehead as he concentrated.

"Gil!" he cried, startled as a third finger was added. He had never felt something so invasive and uncomfortable in his life. Biting his lip, he forced himself to ignore the pain as Gil pushed his fingers in and out deeper each time until they brushed against something that made Oz see stars.

"Nnh, Gil what –"

Encouraged by his moan, Gil aimed for that spot again, causing Oz's member, which had deflated somewhat from the pain, to harden again. Over and over again his fingers stroked that sweet spot, eliciting more haggard moans from Oz's sore lips. Whatever those fingers were doing, he no longer desired them to stop. Right as he thought this, however, they withdrew, once again leaving him feeling empty and needy.

"Gil - AH!"

Before he had time to protest, the tip of something much larger than a finger brushed against his entrance. Eyes flying open in alarm, Oz opened his mouth to tell him to wait a second, but before he could emit a sound, Gil was already pushing his erection inside of him. Throwing his head back into the pillows, he dug his heels into the mattress and yanked against his restraints, wanting nothing more than to sink his nails into Gil's back as he groaned piteously. He tried to take deep, steady breaths as Gil pushed himself all the way inside. The room was silent save for Oz's labored breathing. After a few minutes, he realized that Gil had stopped moving and shot him a perplexed look. He may not have been very experienced in this field, but he was pretty sure that there was more to it than lying there awkwardly like this. From within a mess of tangled black hair, Gil was carefully observing his reactions, brows knitted in concern.

"Oz…" His voice was timid, uncertain.

Although Oz was in a great deal of pain, just sitting there would do nothing to alleviate it, so he nodded his head slightly, indicating that he could continue. Gil didn't budge.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Gil… I'm fine. Just _move_ already!"

Oz gritted his teeth as Gil pulled out an inch and then pushed back in. Oz groaned miserably. Wasn't this supposed to feel _good_? When would it stop being so _painful_? Upon hearing Oz's groan, Gil stopped again, but Oz nodded vigorously against the pillow for him to continue. He pulled out again, this time a bit farther, and slid back in. Each time Gil pulled out a bit farther, but he always pushed back in at the same, torturously slow speed. He waited, feeling Gil quiver against him, but Gil still didn't pick up the pace. _Wow, Gil has a lot of self-restraint. I never would have guessed. Or maybe…_

"Gil," interjected Oz abruptly, suspicion creeping into his tone. "You _do_ know what you're doing, right?"

Startled by the sudden question, Gil accidentally slammed into him – right against the sensitive area that those fingers had previously stimulated – and Oz positively moaned, such was the pleasure that erupted from that spot. Eyes half-lidded and mouth agape, Oz gazed up at Gil in a daze, no longer interested in receiving an answer to his question. Gil, oblivious as usual, failed to realize that he had just given Oz _exactly_ what he wanted and spluttered,

"Wh-what do you mean? Am I hurting you?"

"No, no, you're fine," Oz breathed hastily, wishing he would start moving again. He sighed mentally. He should have realized that having sex with _Gil_ would be a rough experience. "It's just… You can move a little faster, you know?" This last bit was mumbled almost incoherently and accompanied by a noticeable reddening of the face.

Bemused, Gil said, "Oz, what –"

"Faster, Gil! You're supposed to move _faster_ and _harder_! Don't you know that already?"

Gil gaped at him, completely stunned. "What are you insinuating?" he cried, indignant. "That I've done this before?"

"Well, haven't you?" retorted Oz, haughty. "Never mind," he added quickly when Gil opened his mouth to retaliate. "It doesn't matter. Just pick up the pace, would you?"

Gil turned bright red at Oz's demand but obeyed without further ado. He pulled out until the tip of his erection was just inside and then slammed in rapidly, causing Oz to cry out. _Again_, he begged silently. _Hit that spot again… Please!_ As Gil pulled out again, Oz wrapped his legs around his lower back, bringing their heated bodies flush up against one another. When Gil thrust against his sweet spot again, Oz's legs twitched and tightened around his back as he threw back his head and moaned. Never before had he felt something so amazing. The pain was still there, but by now it was almost entirely overwhelmed by the pleasure. Vaguely, Oz noticed that Gil's hand occupied itself with stroking his erection, pumping the shaft in time with his thrusts, which were quickly becoming more frantic and sloppy. His stomach clenched and unclenched as he neared his climax, and he opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of a similarly aroused Gil. And suddenly, Oz yearned for his arms to be free so that they might wrap around Gil's sturdy back and feel the muscles contract and relax against his fingers. He longed to run his hands across his chest, his back, his face, and that wavy, tangled mat of hair, hair that truly did, Oz marveled, resemble seaweed. Oz groaned without restraint, toes curling against the sheets and back arching involuntarily. Gil leaned down and captured his lips to silence him.

"O-Oz, you'll wake the whole house with that mouth of yours!" Gil panted.

"Nngh… Sh – ah! Sh-shut up!" Oz snapped. "Ah! Uhn…" His stomach muscles coiled, and he felt so hot and dizzy and ready to explode –

One more sloppy thrust undid him. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he cried out, arching his back in time with his orgasm. At the same time, he felt something hot fill him up, driving over him another intense wave of pleasure. After a few seconds spent panting, Gil pulled out of him and collapsed at his side, clearly exhausted. He then wrapped an arm around Oz's chest and held him close, trembling violently. Oz stiffened at the contact. His semen had grown cold and sticky on his stomach, and his backside was already starting to ache. The afterglow had faded, leaving him feeling cold, dirty, and guilty. What had he just done? Had he really just had sex with his best friend? Was he that _desperate_? At the moment, he desired nothing more than to take a hot shower, clamber into bed, and _forget_ about everything that had just transpired between him and Gil. Abruptly, he made to turn onto his side before recalling that his hands were still bound.

"Untie me, Gil," he snapped, giving a quick, irritated tug at his restraints, and Gil hastily reached over him and undid them. All the tension in his strained shoulders vanished as he brought his arms down and crossed them over his chest. His wrists were red and sore and stung when they made contact with his cotton nightshirt. Eyes hardening, Oz turned away from Gil.

"You're trembling," he said after several moments, when the silence between them had become too much for him to bear. Gil did not immediately respond.

"I'm fine," he muttered at length, his voice rough and distant. "I just… I never… you…" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I just never imagined that I'd be able to do _that_ with you!" His voice cracked, and he slipped his arms around Oz's slender torso, drawing him close to his chest and burying his face in his neck.

"I love you, Oz."


	2. Revenge

Hello again! I apologize that it's taken me so long to finish the second chapter! My excuse is that I was studying for the MCAT in May, and I was studying in Spain in June and July. My sister and I have worked our butts off these past few days to write this chapter. I've decided to make this a three-shot, and I've already started the third chapter. I hope to finish it soon. Much thanks once again to my sister for all of her help! We both know that she is by far the better writer, and I couldn't do this without her! Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy.

* * *

When he was younger, Oz had been taught that "silence is golden." Silence provided the opportunity to think and to focus, whereas noise only inhibited those things. In his experience, however, silence was equal to loneliness. The mansion in which he had grown up had often been silent, and it was this silence that had always hung over him: a stubborn heaviness weighing on his shoulders, an inexorable darkness rife with his own vile fears. And so Oz rebelled against it, in a gentle way, taking it upon himself to provide the mansion with much-needed cheer, going about both work and play as loudly and boisterously as he could get away with in such polite company as what constantly surrounded him. As the years passed, however, he grew to harbor the conviction that this claim that silence was golden was only a fabrication spun by adults for the sole purpose of keeping their children from distracting them while they carried out their daily work.

Certainly there was nothing "golden" about the silence that followed Gil's confession, and yet for once in his life, Oz was totally at a loss as to how to break it. He lay there in Gil's arms, barely breathing, silently begging himself to _think_, but as someone who had always loathed the silence and had forsaken it, he found now that he could not utilize it as he had been taught.

He had no clue how for how long they lay there listening only to the sounds of their steady breathing and the wind scraping against the windows, but he knew he could no longer remain silent when Gil called out his name, an anxious intonation to his voice. And Oz could not bring himself to ignore him any longer, and so he took a deep breath, gently extricated himself from the other's embrace, and sat up so that they were face to face.

"Gil," he began guardedly, very conscious of the wariness creeping into Gil's eyes. "I… Uh… I mean, I-I don't know what to say… to that…"

Gil didn't react. Taking another shaky breath, Oz added, "I mean, I know we just…" Here he made a noncommittal gesture, unable to voice it. "B-But I never considered you as anything more than a friend – a _best_ friend. And I never thought I'd ever… do _that_ with another guy. I mean, it just doesn't make sense, right?" He gave a nervous laugh. "And it's not…" He choked on the word "normal," realizing at the last second that it wasn't the best thing to say given the circumstances, but from the stung look on Gil's face it was clear that he understood perfectly well what was left unsaid. Oz averted his eyes as he thought how to word his next sentence without losing his best friend.

"Gil…" Head bowed, he reached out blindly for his hand. It was cold. "Gil, you're my best friend. I can't lose you, but I can't… I can't…"

"But you can't feel the same way about me, right?"

The desolation and bitterness laced in his tone made Oz cringe. The hand beneath his began to tremble ever so slightly.

"Well, we didn't think things through, and it was a – a mistake to –"

"My love for you isn't a mistake!"

Taken aback at the sudden outburst, Oz snapped his head up to find Gil glaring at him, eyes bright and angry.

"How – how can you –" Snatching his hand back, he clutched at his chest as he struggled to speak. "Y-you were responding… I thought that… If you didn't want to, then why –"

"I don't know, Gil! I wasn't thinking straight back then! I didn't know what I was doing! You made me think that I wanted it!"

The color drained from Gil's face, and Oz knew instantly that he'd said the wrong thing.

"I… you… B-but you told me –!"

"Forget what I told you! Forget everything that just happened!" Oz snapped, wringing the bedclothes beneath him as his face began to redden with anger and embarrassment. "Just forget it all!" Feverishly, he began pulling his nightclothes back on, succumbing to yet another intense wave of shame as he did so.

"Forget?" Gil repeated, stunned. "I-I've had these feelings for you for so long and dreamed about this so many times, and now that it's finally happened, you tell me to just forget it all?" He covered the side of his face with his right hand, bowing his head slightly as he grasped distractedly at his hair. When he spoke again, his voice came out tired and despondent. "Do you really think it's that simple? Do you think that I haven't _tried_…"

The resignation in this confession silenced Oz at once, and suddenly he was struck by the urge to run, to escape from this room and everything that had transpired there, to preserve their friendship, to avoid having to look at his heartbroken friend, the person he cared about most in the world.

"Just go," came Gil's quiet plea only a moment later, and although Oz wanted nothing more than to obey, he found he just couldn't leave like this. He was so confused; everything had changed so drastically and suddenly, and he was hurt as well by the whole ordeal. Why couldn't Gil tell? Why was he so insistent on playing the victim while making Oz out to be the villain?

"C-can't you tell that this is hard on me, too?!" Oz all but shouted, leaping up from the bed and turning to glower at Gil. "Don't you see that I'm hurting, too?!"

And with that, he turned and fled from the bedroom.

* * *

"Hey, Oz, are you going to eat that? Oz!"

"Huh?" Startled, Oz looked down at his plate, on which lay a slice of melon and two sausage links, one of which had already been pierced by Alice's impatient fork. "Oh, no, you can have it." In a flash both links were gone, but the melon remained conspicuously behind. He smiled faintly. When it felt like everything else was crashing down around him, it was nice to see that Alice still remained the same.

He had hardly slept at all the previous night. When he finally had been able to fall into a fitful sleep, he was haunted by images of Gil's tormented face and broken voice. He had to get out of the mansion for the day. He didn't know how he would react if he saw him.

"Hey, Alice, do you want to go into town today?"

Alice glanced up from her plate. "What for?"

Oz shrugged. "Nothing in particular, but since we have the day off, I figured it might be more fun to go into town than to hang out here. Plus, we can stop by that meat stall that you like!"

Alice needed no further persuasion. "Then what are you waiting for? Let's go!" Grabbing his hand, she jumped up from her seat and pulled him along.

"Ah, wait a second, Alice! We have to call for a carriage! Alice!"

Alice didn't stop running until they had reached the foyer. Grateful, Oz bent over, trying to regain his breath. Footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder until they came to a sudden stop nearby. Before he could think, Alice spoke up.

"Well, well, if it isn't Seaweed-Head! You're up late today, aren't you?"

Oz froze. In a daze, he straightened and made brief eye contact with Gil. Upon seeing the hollowness in his countenance, Oz felt his chest tighten. At the same time, he was irked by Gil's insistence on playing the victim.

"C'mon, Alice," said Oz quietly, squeezing her hand. He saw Gil's eyes slide from his face to their clasped hands, his mouth tightening almost imperceptibly.

"Huh?" asked Alice, bemused. "You aren't going to ask Seaweed-Head to come?"

"Gil has some work to do," he lied. "We don't want to get in his way." He forced a cheerful smile. "Where did that enthusiasm from a moment ago go? Let's go!"

And for the second time, he turned his back on Gil and walked away, chatting frivolously with Alice as he tried to swallow the guilt and anger threatening to consume him.

* * *

They made it to town within the hour, and Oz tried his best to relax and stop thinking about Gil. Luckily, Alice's energy proved to be a great distraction; that is, until she brought up that very person on their journey home.

"Did something happen between you and Seaweed-Head?"

Surprised by her question, Oz dropped the remainder of his crêpe on the sidewalk. "Ah, my crêpe!" He picked it up quickly and brushed it off before shoving it into his mouth. "Why d'ya ask?"

"Well, it's not like I care or anything," she assured him, crossing her arms and glancing away in a display of airiness. "But I noticed this strange tension between the two of you this morning, and it just felt like something had happened."

Oz stared, amazed that she had picked up on it so easily. Although she pretended not to care, he knew that it must have bothered her or she wouldn't have said anything. Smiling warmly, he reached out and patted her on the head.

"Don't worry, nothing's going on between us," he said, forcing as much confidence as he could into his lie. The narrowed eyebrows indicated that she didn't entirely believe him.

"Oh, look!" he added quickly by way of diversion. "There's our carriage! Let's hurry home before the sun sets."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the carriage. Neither of them, however, said a word throughout the ride.

* * *

"Oz-sama? Oz-sama? Are you listening?"

"Huh?" Oz shook his head slightly, bringing himself out of his trance. Sharon sat across from him at the round table, dressed in an elegant evening gown, and blinked perplexedly from over her teacup. "Oh, sorry, I must have spaced out for a minute," Oz said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "What were you saying?"

"No," she said after a moment, carefully setting her cup back onto its saucer with a gentle _click_. "I-it's nothing."

It had shocked Oz greatly when Sharon invited him to tea tonight; he had, to his own astonishment, almost entirely forgotten about her after what had transpired a week ago. Some time between then and now, his heart had quietly emptied itself of all the emotions he once harbored for her, and she had since ceased to haunt his mind like before she had so often done. It was only while trying vainly to recall the moment his heart had gone hollow for her that he realized he hadn't seen her about the mansion at all since her rejection of him. Could it be, he wondered, that Sharon had been avoiding him ever since then, similar to how he was now avoiding Gil? His suspicions were all but confirmed when she spoke again:

"Oz-sama… Are you still upset with me for not accepting your feelings?"

"Wh-what?" Oz spluttered, cheeks reddening. He quickly set his teacup down so as to avoid an accident.

"I… I truly regret that I was unable to return your feelings," she continued softly, bringing her delicately curled fist to her chest and lowering her eyes to the carpet. "I hope you'll be able to forgive me… And that I tried to hide from you all week… I-I'm very ashamed of my actions. It was immature of me and cruel to you, Oz-sama. I-I've been thinking about it ever since that night, and I –"

"Sh-Sharon-chan!" Oz interrupted, overwhelmed by this sudden outpouring of emotion. "I forgive you! I was never angry at you! In fact, I'm… I'm feeling much better now. So… So don't worry about me."

And he realized that it was _true_ he wasn't angry at Sharon – how could he be when his mind was so occupied elsewhere? Not only that, he had barely even had time to be upset about her rejection because of what had happened almost directly after. It was odd; he found now that he could hardly recall being in love with her in the first place.

"Oz-sama," said Sharon presently, her voice anxious. "Are - Are you telling the truth?"

"M-mm! Of course!" he insisted, giving her a small smile in confirmation. "I respect Sharon-chan's honesty. I could never be angry with you! I've accepted it, and I'm fine now. I promise!"

Sharon's hand clenched tighter and began to tremble somewhat. "I…" she started quietly, biting her lip, "I'm so… relieved! I'm so relieved, Oz-sama! I was so afraid that I had broken your heart… I'm so glad."

Oz laughed a little, but it sounded false even to his ears. Despite even the diversion that Sharon presented, he _still_ couldn't get Gil out of his head.

"I-is something else bothering you, Oz-sama?"

Oz lifted his head up in surprise. "Wh-what makes you think that something's bothering me?" he asked, suddenly alert.

Sharon gave him a placid smile. "Let's call it a woman's intuition."

Oz paused. "Nothing's wrong," he said at length. "I guess I'm just a little bored now that things have quieted down." Sharon didn't look convinced. "Really, I'm fine," he asserted. "Getting rejected is part of life. I'm better now."

"Did something happen between you and Gilbert-san?"

"With Gil?" Oz laughed as airily as he could, but he felt his stomach churn. "Gil knows that he could never win a fight with his master. What makes you ask?" he added, trying not to appear too interested.

"Gilbert-san seems to be down about something."

"You've seen him?!" Oz blurted out. Gil hadn't returned to the mansion since the morning Oz saw him before going into town. He hadn't bothered to ask where he had gone off to and was, actually, too apprehensive of seeing him to dare to. Still, he was curious as to his servant's current whereabouts and vaguely hoped that Sharon might know them.

"Yes, he's been spending a lot of time at Headquarters," she told him, eyeing him rather suspiciously. "Has he not been coming home at night?"

"Oh, uh – I'm not sure," Oz lied quickly. "He told me that he had a lot of work to catch up on, so maybe he's been coming home after I'm already asleep."

"Or maybe he's staying in his apartment," she mused. "Although I must admit that I can't see why, as it's quite out of the way from Headquarters compared to this mansion."

An uneasy silence fell over them. Oz fidgeted, trying to come up with something clever to say, but nothing struck him.

After a few moments had passed this way, Sharon, who seemed to have noticed his restlessness, cautiously asked, "By any chance, did you and Gilbert-san quarrel, Oz-sama? You seem rather uncomfortable all of a sudden."

"W-well, maybe we did get into a little fight," Oz admitted reluctantly, squeezing his fingers together in his lap.

"As I suspected," Sharon said, with some satisfaction.

"It's just –" Oz clenched his fist under the table as he was suddenly overtaken by remembrances of all the anger and humiliation he suffered by Gil's hand. "I-it's just that Gil doesn't think before he acts and then he – he doesn't think about how it makes other feel!" He said this last part hotly, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist tighter. He couldn't believe he was opening up to Sharon about this.

But she remained calm, as she was used to, and after a few moments' contemplation she said, very levelly, "Well, Oz-sama, it's difficult to know how others are feeling if they don't express it, isn't it?

Oz just barely stopped himself from snorting in annoyance. "Yeah. So? He expressed himself, and he ended up hurting me and hurting himself, too, I think."

"Then," said Sharon, bridging her hands and resting her chin on them, "why don't you let Gilbert-san know exactly how you felt when he acted the way he did? I've known Gilbert-san for quite a while, Oz-sama, and I know he wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt you. You must express to him how he made you feel or else he may not realize his error."

"Let him know… how I felt?" Oz asked, and at that moment, he felt the seed of anger planted within him on that night begin to take root. "Y-yeah… That's right… I should let him know _exactly_ how I felt." Suddenly excited by his almost evil intent, Oz leapt to his feet, startling Sharon so thoroughly that she nearly spilled her tea. "Thanks, Sharon-chan!" he cried, feeling so giddy all of a sudden that he very nearly laughed. "I think I'll do just that! Did you say he was at his apartment?"

"W-well, I'm not entirely certain, but –"

"I have to see him right away! I'll call for a carriage to be prepared!" He was halfway out the sitting room when Sharon called out to him.

"Oz-sama!" she said, breathlessly. "I hope everything goes well between you and Gilbert-san!"

Oz turned somewhat, a cold grin set on his lips. "Don't worry," he said. "Everything will turn out just fine!"

And without another word, he dashed from the room.

* * *

The click of the lock shook Oz out of his reverie. The door creaked as it swung open. Oz didn't move. He heard Gil shuffle into the apartment, dump something on the kitchen table, and then rummage around a bit in the near-darkness. A few moments later, the room was illuminated.

"O-Oz!" Gil exclaimed, jumping a little upon perceiving his unexpected guest. "Wh-what are you _doing_ here?!"

"So you've been hiding out here," Oz said, keeping his voice light and unconcerned.

"W-working, not hiding," Gil muttered, turning away his face. "Pandora gave me some missions to carry out. They didn't have anything to do with that stupid rabbit's memories, so I decided to do them alone. Anyway, what are you doing here? How'd you get in?"

Oz flapped his hand disinterestedly at the door. "You gave me a spare key ages ago, remember?" He turned his face toward the window so as to blind Gil to the emotions he feared would show on it.

"Y-yeah, that's right," Gil assented, moving back to the entryway to hang up his hat and coat.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them then. Oz silently steeled himself to press on, to do what he'd come here for. It was too late to back down now, and the burning flame of injustice within him would not have forgiven him if he had.

"Gil." His voice broke through the silence. "Come here."

Gil didn't move. "Oz… Wh-why?"

"That's an order."

He watched as Gil approached him, eyes downcast and shoulders somewhat slouched.

"Sit down." Oz pointed to a nearby chair, and Gil reluctantly took it. Oz crossed his arms. "So, were you planning on avoiding me forever?"

Gil looked affronted. "Not forever! I was just giving you space – I thought you wanted that!"

"I-I did," Oz snapped, beginning to feel annoyed in spite of himself. "I thought that if you went away, I'd feel better! But I don't feel any better at all! I still feel… so… _dirty_. I feel humiliated, Gil! You humiliated me!"

"Oz!" Gil cried, trying to get to his feet, but Oz pushed him back down. "I didn't – what we did – that is, I never meant to humiliate you! I –"

"Shut up," Oz interrupted, glowering, but he could think of nothing of substance to add to his response, and so he fell quiet as Gil continued.

"I only… I only wanted… to show you how much I love you… That was all." His face was flushed pink, and he wouldn't meet Oz's eyes. Silence prevailed again, but Oz was now too consumed with a fresh burst of anger that it didn't last.

"Prove it to me," he said forcefully, and when Gil glanced up at him in astonishment, he added roughly, "Prove that you love me, Gil! Right here and now! Take off my tie!"

Gil hesitated for a moment before slowly rising from his seat and starting to undo the knot at Oz's throat. That done, the garment was slipped from around his neck and listlessly tossed it to the floor.

"What are you waiting for?" Oz demanded a moment after, unfolding his arms and spreading them out from his sides. "Take off the rest of it! The shirt and vest, the boots, the shorts – hurry up!"

Gil seemed too startled to disobey, or perhaps he was so overcome by remembrances from ten years ago of dressing and undressing his master that he simply moved on instinct. Either way, the task was duly carried out, and minutes later, Oz stood before him in nothing but his boxers, his face slightly warm but his resolve perfectly steady. Gil, even more red-faced than before, blatantly refused to make eye contact with him, his head turned almost defiantly to the side.

"Look at me, Gil," Oz murmured, pushing Gil down onto his knees and sliding his hand beneath his chin. His heart thudded, a pulse of sadistic pleasure passing through him. He smirked at Gil's obvious discomfort. "Hey, Gil – are you aroused?" he mused, his grin broadening.

"O-Oz…" was all Gil could manage before Oz placed a hand on the top of his head and slowly began to run his fingers through his hair. Involuntarily, it seemed, Gil shivered.

"A guilty reaction," Oz observed with another smirk. Gil seemed to be at a loss for words. "Have you ever touched yourself, Gil?" he asked recklessly, becoming increasingly more thrilled with the amount of power he held over his servant. "I bet you have. Am I right?"

He watched as a bead of sweat formed on Gil's forehead and slipped down his face. His lips curled into a shrewd grin. Gil's every reaction – the sweaty, flushed face, the dry lips, the clenched, shaky fists – excited him to the point where he no longer felt the shame that had been inflicted on him a week before. _He_ was in control now, not Gil. And he could do whatever he wanted to his precious servant.

"Put your hands on me, Gil."

Gil's head shot up. "W-What?!"

Oz bent down until their faces were mere inches apart. "I know you know how to do it," he said softly. "All of those years of practice really came in handy, huh?"

Finally Gil burst out, "Oz, wh-what are you –"

While he was talking, Oz grabbed his right hand and placed it over the front of his boxers. Gil looked as if he might faint.

"Enough talking," he ordered. "Take them off."

"I-I can't –"

"Now!"

Hands trembling, Gil slipped his fingers inside the waistband of the boxers and slid them down Oz's legs. Unsure of where to look, he settled for focusing on the window to his right until Oz latched his fingers in his hair and turned his head back to face him.

"I want your mouth around me."

Gil's eyes found his, and Oz detected a faint trace of hope within them. Before he had much time to consider the matter, however, Gil took a deep breath and wrapped his mouth hesitantly around the tip of his member. Oz bit his tongue to prevent himself from shouting out. No matter what, he was determined to be in control this time around. He positively refused to let Gil dominate him again.

"Gil," he said, trying to prevent his voice from shaking. "Use your tongue!"

Gil's tongue swirled around the tip gently and teased the slit. Oz squeezed his eyes shut and snatched at Gil's hair with his right hand to steady himself.

"Go up farther!" he commanded, thrusting forward a bit. Gil obliged, taking more of him into his mouth and licking the underside of his shaft. Oz's breath hitched in his throat. Since he had experienced this one time before, he had been certain that this time he would be able to control his reactions, but already his legs were quaking, and he was desperately fighting against making a sound. Vaguely he wondered if Gil had ever experienced this before. His grip on Gil's hair tightened as he tried to steady his legs. Noticing that Oz was moments away from collapsing, Gil gently eased him into the wooden chair behind him. Secretly relieved, Oz settled into the chair, breathing deeply through his nose.

"Gil," he demanded. "Suck harder!"

Subconsciously, one of Oz's hands gripped the bottom of the chair while the other remained entangled in Gil's messy hair. He leaned against the chair, head tipping back and heels bracing against the floor. He hardly cared that the sides of the chair were digging into his thighs; all he could feel was Gil's mouth, warm and wet and wonderful around him, and it felt so good, so much _better _than he had remembered. Mouth agape, breath coming in short pants, he thrust his hips up and instantly heard a choking noise. Hands grasped at his thighs, pushing them back into the chair. Stomach clenching, Oz barely recognized what had happened. He felt hot all over and his hands were shaking and sweaty and all he could focus on was his imminent release.

"AHH!" Oz moaned as he came into Gil's mouth, breaking his rule to remain silent. Gil pulled away, and Oz took a moment to regain his breath.

Neither of them moved for a few minutes. Finally, when Oz had recovered, he pulled his boxers back on and plopped down onto Gil's lap. Gil shot him a pained look. Smiling, Oz embraced him and whispered into his ear,

"Thank you, Gil. You were amazing. But," His grin widened. "You should swallow that, right?" he suggested dangerously. The look that Gil gave him contained an ounce of – was that disgust? –, but he obeyed anyways, looking a bit sick afterwards.

He kissed his earlobe, and then added, "But now it seems that we have another problem to deal with, hm?" To emphasize his point, he ground his bottom lightly into Gil's lap.

Gil yelped and tried to push him off. Oz laughed.

"No need to be shy!" he teased darkly, tugging on strands of Gil's hair, causing him to wince. "I'll admit that I'm a bit surprised that Gil can get so aroused from doing this sort of thing to somebody else. Isn't it shameful?"

He began kissing along Gil's jawbone, making him shudder. Once he reached the corner of his chin, he slid his lips down his throat, pulling his head back by the hair still clutched in his fingers. When he reached the skin between the neck and the clavicle, he bit down hard. Gil cried out and then groaned when Oz started sucking on the spot.

"You like this, don't you?" he asked, blowing on the wound, and Gil flinched. "Gil always was a bit of a masochist."

"I'm not –!"

"Then why do you like it when I yank your hair?" Oz interrupted, pulling on a strand of hair to prove his point. "Why do you like it when I bite you? I know you do – you're so aroused right now! Ah, but what to do?" he wondered aloud. "I'm too tired to help Gil out, as much as I'd like to." He placed his hand on the bulge in Gil's lap.

"Don't worry about it," Gil said gruffly, swatting his hand away. "I can handle it on my own."

"Oh, really?" Oz said, eyes glinting. "I'd like to see that."

Gil flushed when he realized what he'd said. "I didn't mean –!"

"Then what _did _you mean?"

"Nothing," he muttered, embarrassed. "A-anyway, I thought you were tired."

"Not too tired to watch you finish up."

"Oz! That's –"

"What?" Oz said innocently. "I want to see the technique that Gil perfected during all those years of my absence."

Right after he said it, he knew he'd crossed a boundary.

"Enough." Gil's voice was suddenly cold and serious. "Do you think this is funny? Do you really enjoy mocking my feelings that much?"

Oz didn't respond, partly annoyed at the sudden rejection and partly ashamed of his own crass behavior. The high he'd gotten while tormenting Gil was starting to fade, leaving him feeling slightly cold and even upset by his own cruel actions.

"It's your fault," he said finally, lowering his head, unable to meet Gil's eyes. "It's your fault that I'm like this. You made me crazy. I hate this!"

Gil faltered. After a moment, he mumbled, "Yeah, I know." He looked up at Oz. "But no more. I take everything back. All of my feelings for you, the things that we've done – forget them all, Oz. Let's make things like they were before. I can't stand this distance between us any longer!"

But Oz shook his head. "It's too late for that now, stupid!" he snapped. "You expect me to just forget that all that crazy stuff happened? That's impossible, Gil! For you, too! Everything's changed now!"

"Then," interrupted Gil, frustrated, "what do you want me to do?"

Oz stood up and started to pull his clothes back on. Once he was fully dressed, he turned to face Gil and said coldly, "Keep proving to me just how much you love me."


End file.
